"They say in Western religions, the fall from the garden of Eden was caused by an apple," Atobe comments, and picks up one of the fruits he had spoken of. "It's really the fruit from the tree of knowledge, never specifically defined as an apple. But people like to think of it as an apple."
"It's fitting, is it not?" Fuji asks, and reaches across the bar to grab the apple out of Atobe's hands. "The colors, it's juice. Especially if it's a good apple." Fuji turns the apple he holds over, his thumb feeling for any soft spots. And not finding any, brings it to his mouth. "Do you like apples?"
Atobe doesn't reply and watches the boy across from him bite into the apple, watches white teeth break at the red skin and sink into the white flesh of the fruit, and watches as juice trails down his chin. Fuji ignores it, as he chews his apple, and Atobe reaches across the counter to wipe the trail of juice from Fuji's chin.
"Enjoy," Fuji murmurs, and takes another bite when Atobe opens his mouth to ask what he meant. With a smirk, as if he knows exactly what Fuji is going on about, Atobe simply licks his finger clean of the juice, and continues to watch.
"Would you like a bite?" he asks, and holds up the apple. Atobe reaches out to take it from him, but Fuji moves his hand, and before Atobe realizes it, the apple is pressed against his lips, in the same spot Fuji had been eating from. There's no choice but to take a bite of it.
It would be just as easy for Atobe to pick up his own apple - there's a basket resting at his elbow, filled with various fruits, some even more exotic than the ordinary apple. But something keeps him from grabbing one. Fuji offers him a second bite, and a third, until they're sharing the apple evenly between them, bite after bite.
Fuji's the messy one of the two of them, but there's a reason for it; Atobe's positive of that. He would do such a thing for a reason, and he doesn't put it past Fuji to, either.
The apple's down the core, and Atobe reaches across the counter, grabbing Fuji's wrists, and pulling him closer; the counter is too wide between them and for once Atobe hates his house. But Fuji's easy enough to pull over the counter and into Atobe's lap, although their seat is precarious.
"I like apples well enough," Atobe says. "But I prefer other fruits." And laps at Fuji's chin, working his way up and clearing the juice from his face, until he's at Fuji's lips.
"They say in Western religions, the fall from the garden of Eden was caused by an apple," Atobe comments, and picks up one of the fruits he had spoken of. "It's really the fruit from the tree of knowledge, never specifically defined as an apple. But people like to think of it as an apple."
"It's fitting, is it not?" Fuji asks, and reaches across the bar to grab the apple out of Atobe's hands. "The colors, it's juice. Especially if it's a good apple." Fuji turns the apple he holds over, his thumb feeling for any soft spots. And not finding any, brings it to his mouth. "Do you like apples?"
Atobe doesn't reply and watches the boy across from him bite into the apple, watches white teeth break at the red skin and sink into the white flesh of the fruit, and watches as juice trails down his chin. Fuji ignores it, as he chews his apple, and Atobe reaches across the counter to wipe the trail of juice from Fuji's chin.
"Enjoy," Fuji murmurs, and takes another bite when Atobe opens his mouth to ask what he meant. With a smirk, as if he knows exactly what Fuji is going on about, Atobe simply licks his finger clean of the juice, and continues to watch.
"Would you like a bite?" he asks, and holds up the apple. Atobe reaches out to take it from him, but Fuji moves his hand, and before Atobe realizes it, the apple is pressed against his lips, in the same spot Fuji had been eating from. There's no choice but to take a bite of it.
It would be just as easy for Atobe to pick up his own apple - there's a basket resting at his elbow, filled with various fruits, some even more exotic than the ordinary apple. But something keeps him from grabbing one. Fuji offers him a second bite, and a third, until they're sharing the apple evenly between them, bite after bite.
Fuji's the messy one of the two of them, but there's a reason for it; Atobe's positive of that. He would do such a thing for a reason, and he doesn't put it past Fuji to, either.
The apple's down the core, and Atobe reaches across the counter, grabbing Fuji's wrists, and pulling him closer; the counter is too wide between them and for once Atobe hates his house. But Fuji's easy enough to pull over the counter and into Atobe's lap, although their seat is precarious.
"I like apples well enough," Atobe says. "But I prefer other fruits." And laps at Fuji's chin, working his way up and clearing the juice from his face, until he's at Fuji's lips.
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Knowledge is sexy :x
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